Elegy
by leader of lights
Summary: With Gilbert gone, all Roderich can do is turn to his decorating work to carry him through the day. He just can't stop seeing Gilbert beside him, and it always tears him apart. Rated for language.


_Let me out! Let me out!_ Sharp as broken glass, the words cut into Roderich's thoughts. Everything in their path was destroyed, beyond recognition.

"Excuse me," said a pair of curious gray eyes slathered with make-up. "What color did you say would go best with my mother's vase?" The question was just enough to muffle the voice echoing in Roderich's head. New trains of thought pieced together, struggling to form an answer. It was about the vase; it was always about her mother's priceless vase. She could hardly speak without mentioning it once or more. In all honesty, it was ugly and looked to have little value to it. At least it was something concrete to build his work around.

Roderich peered around the room. It was expensive and spacious, but nothing spectacular. He had a lot of hours ahead of him, trying to make this middle-aged woman's house something worth showing off to everyone she knew. It was no longer his instinct to call these oversized dwellings 'homes'. She had no one to share it with and likely never would. "Beige," he told her, briefly touching the wall with only the tips of his fingers, "Paint them beige."

His client giggled with delight and pressed her manicured hands together in front of her chest. "Yes, of course! That will present this beautiful vase perfectly, to every prying eye!" She stepped out toward the center of the room, reveling in the house she had ordered built just for her. "You keep this up, and you'll be paid even more than we agreed on."

She was easily excitable. That would work in his favor. He adjusted his glasses and said, "Making your house beautiful is my job, Ms. Edwards. I'll do what I can."

"You're on your way to just that, Mr. Edelstein. I have no doubt that you'll make me proud to have hired you." Her smile was sincere but held the same sense of artificiality the rest of her person did. Fighting the natural aging of their skin was often the hobby of the affluent women he encountered.

Edwards involved him in a light conversation about rug patterns before releasing him for the evening. Roderich wasted no time reaching his car and driving away from the lakeside area she'd chosen to live by. There were too many closed-off households by the openness of the water. He turned on the radio, loud, and the sounds of violins filled his ears. Anything to keep that voice at bay.

His neighborhood looked the same as ever, simply covered with the crisp hues of autumn's arrival. The tree in the yard beside his was already stripped of its leaves. Bare was the rest of the yard, as well as the house. The blankness struck a chord in him. He felt it each time his eyes met that plain white door. He hurried onto his own driveway, where he could restore the music pulsing inside him to a single long note. The moment he stepped out of the car, a scarlet leaf met his gaze, swept along on the chilly seasonal wind.

_Let me out! Fucking let me out! This is all your fault! _The accusations and demands rushed back into his head, much too fast to handle. _I'm not dead, God damn it!_ The curses carried Gilbert's voice perfectly, more than anything else. The flash of passionate scarlet eyes made Roderich's vision swim; rather than warm him, the image turned his blood to ice. He careened, only able to stay standing by leaning against his car.

_Dig me up!_ insisted Gilbert's voice. It always went back and forth between what he needed and wanted. He was buried deep under the ground, still alive and scratching at the lid of his coffin, seeking release. Then, his face was right in front of Roderich's, the clearest thing his target had seen all day and as pale as the last time he'd seen him alive. Desperation made his voice shrill as he howled, _Why the hell aren't you here with me?_

Gilbert disappeared in a rush of violence, just the way he liked. His haunting words followed him back into the darkness. Roderich staggered toward his house, slowly focusing on what really lay in front of him. Sun-bleached concrete was beneath his feet. His garage door was only a few paces ahead. He avoided it, making for the bright front door. His left arm clutched his right just above the elbow, while blood seeped out between his fingers, staining his best white dress shirt.

The house greeted him with complete stillness. It wasn't nearly as large as the average house of his clients, but felt like a castle-one completely devoid of everyone but its king. He kept no pets. There were no guests. Each and every room was his and his alone, and they were all so empty. Their obsessive cleanliness only made it worse.

Roderich tended to his arm, then to dinner. He spared more expense on quality ingredients for his meals than he did on the clothes he wore to consultations. Making that night's dinner required much of his time and allowed little side thought. He had just sat down to eat when the phone rang, cracking the brittle silence.

The call was from another client. She wanted opinions on what she should cover her windows with. She had no neighbors but needed her privacy, she claimed. Implicit in her words was that she wanted to know how much she could get away with spending on drapes behind her husband's back. He told her exactly what she desired, too tired to try otherwise. Exhaustion was setting in early, deep in his bones. By the time he returned to his plate, his intricate meal had gone cold.

Sleep called him to his room before long. He changed out of his work clothes without haste, knowing what he'd encounter the moment he drifted off. His head hit the pillow; his fingers twined with the bed sheet. Beside him was a void that couldn't be filled, that only grew when he closed his eyes. So, he turned his back to it. That never made it go away.

His breathing slowed. The heat of another body passed through the thin material of his shirt. Gilbert was back beside him, where he'd been countless times in the past. This time, they lay back-to-back. Their breathing became one shared cycle, but no matter how long Roderich waited, he couldn't feel a heartbeat.

_I'm sorry,_ Gilbert said softly, with the same voice that had hurled curses at him like sharpened stones. _I'm sorry._

"I know," Roderich told him. Even now he couldn't stop talking to this illusion. Nothing changed when he forgave him, and nothing ever would.

The repetitions continued, growing softer. _I'm sorry… So sorry. _Gilbert's last breath faded, as if he'd just forgotten to inhale again. Roderich wanted to get up and shake the air back into him, but he'd tried that before, too.

"I forgive you, Gilbert." Numbness crept through his nerves, preparing him for what he knew would come next.

Gilbert was silent for a long time. His warmth was slipping away. For the last time, he opened his mouth to speak: _I love you._ The three words were solemn and resounding as single notes played on a piano, each lower than the one before.

The body beside Roderich was torn away with just one blink. Once again he was alone on the bed he'd shared with the one welcome source of discord in his life. A sense of irrevocable loss overwhelmed the numbing sensation and washed it away. The tears he didn't know he still had streamed from his eyes. His hands covered his face immediately, but already his pillow was damp.

He believed Gilbert would never stop haunting him.

* * *

The maroon curtains had been thrust aside, allowing the brilliant summer sun to illuminate the room. The light hit the piano perfectly at this time of day, giving it a glossy shine that complimented the gentle music flowing from within. The higher notes were given an accent while the lower notes gained warmth. Not that Gilbert noticed; he never did. He preferred taking all the sunlight for himself and using the piano as his accompaniment. When he was around, he wanted to be the only thing Roderich saw. The more time that passed, the more he succeeded.

His scarlet eyes rested on the unlit chandelier, the one above them, with the fluted glass globes that'd caught Roderich's attention in a way very different from the man sitting on the edge of his piano without a care in the world. When Roderich looked for decorations, they sat back and waited to be discovered as superior to all the others just like them. Gilbert forced his way into his line of sight and refused to let him look away and consider something else. No need for comparisons-he was already the best there was.

Somewhere along the way, Roderich stopped minding.

He only made it a third of the way through the song when Gilbert decided it was over for him. He leaned over and slammed his hand on the keys. Roderich cringed at the horrible sound they made, his hands awkwardly held over the final notes he'd played. With a sigh, he began, "Gilbert, why-"

"I am that chord in your life," Gilbert interrupted, the sun making his short hair flare like white fire. His lips parted in a mischievous smirk, the one that made Roderich's breath catch without fail. Even as his skin grew paler, betraying the illness sapping his life away, he was still absolutely striking and the only thing Roderich wanted to see. "How does that make you feel?"

Roderich soundlessly rested his hands on the keys. Even they were warm to the touch. "Very special," he replied sarcastically, but couldn't resist smiling at him. He was grateful for Gilbert's reckless plunge into his life-grateful from the depths of his heart. No matter how obnoxious he could be, Gilbert brought a radiance to his life that he never knew existed. Even his annoyances could be endearing.

Knowing how little time he had left with him only made Roderich love him more.

"Good," Gilbert said smugly; "That's how it should be." A glimmer of tenderness appeared in his eyes, just before he pulled away and watched Roderich expectantly. "Well? Keep playing your silly little piano already."

Roderich shook his head, resigning himself to Gilbert's demands. Then, he lifted his hands and began to play.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm really wishing there was a rating between teen and mature, because I don't think it fits either of them. If you think this is misrated (because of the language) please tell me and I'll fix it.

This was inspired by the album Hospice by The Antlers. Especially the final song, 'Epilogue'. Okay, more like it stabbed me in the eyes with hot fire pokers until I sat down and started writing.

This isn't really a story itself, but the kinda-sorta-not-really-ending of a story I've been thinking about. In this story: Roderich is an interior decorator, Ludwig is his next door neighbor, and Gilbert is Ludwig's freeloading brother that lives in his basement. Gilbert has a terminal illness, and likes climbing Roderich's privacy fence. Also, someting about Christmas and pianos. I may get around to writing the whole thing someday if people enjoy this enough.

As always, thanks for reading~ Favorites and reviews make me endlessly happy. Especially reviews, haha.


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